


I Called, You Came

by AndreaLyn



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-28
Updated: 2011-03-28
Packaged: 2017-10-17 08:03:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve doesn't know what to make of the puzzling texts Danny keeps sending him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Called, You Came

NEW MESSAGE FROM DANNO:  
 _Hey, come over, I’ve got something to show you_.

Steve’s busy. He’s too busy to drop everything and head to Danny’s apartment, especially since he’s still convinced that he picked up bedbugs from one of Danny’s less-than-hygienic neighbors. So he texts back, ‘Danny, just show me at the office’ and doesn’t think much of it once the text is gone.

Besides, if Danny doesn’t want to show him now, he can do it later when they’re spending the night at Steve’s place like they’ve been doing for the last few weeks. It’s been a matter of convenience. The days are long, the cases are hard, and so when Danny collapses face-first onto Steve’s bed and Steve fucks him into oblivion to get the edge off, it all makes sense.

They’re friends with really good benefits and occasional dates.

Steve’s in the middle of another in a long list of calls to leads when his phone buzzes with an incoming text, another from Danny.

 _What the fuck is the matter w you?_

Steve stares at his phone in wounded horror, wondering what he could have done to earn that kind of reaction. He cradles the office phone between neck and shoulder as he skims through the texts he and Danny have been exchanging, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary. Danny has apparently slipped into one of his moods, because there’s no way any of this makes sense.

He hangs up when the lead has nothing new for him, dialing Danny – who’s out on a sick day to get over some allergies, which he blames on pineapples because he’s just that petty. “Nothing is the matter with me,” Steve says to start the conversation, skipping pleasantries to get right down to it. “Danny, what the hell?”

“Me what the hell?” Danny scoffs. “Me? Are you kidding me? Of all the perverted, of all the disgusting… _me_? You want me to come to the office and show you? You want me to go to where there are people and…” Danny hangs up and Steve is more confused than he’s ever been.

It must show. Chin comes in to deliver a new batch of files and his pace falters the minute he gets Steve in his sights. “I don’t like that look,” Chin says warily.

“I’m trying to understand Danny,” Steve says slowly, puzzling out each word like he’s in the middle of a Rubik’s Cube that might never be solved.

Chin shakes his head, dropping the files on Steve’s desk. “Tough luck, brah. I’d give up now before you get tangled in Jersey-sized knots.”

By the time Steve gets back to Danny’s apartment, he seems to be out of whatever mood he’d been in earlier and Steve forgets about the incident entirely.

**

NEW MESSAGE FROM DANNO:  
 _Wondering where my powerful stallion is. ???_

Steve can’t even begin to comprehend the message and all he can think is that someone has kidnapped Danny, taken over his phone, and is now using it to send him cryptic messages. He’s so sure of it that he calls Danny.

When Danny picks up, Steve’s down a theory and his confusion only amplifies. “I thought maybe you were in trouble,” Steve says, trying to pick through the meaning of the message. He’s written it down on a piece of paper, trying to unscramble the words. “Danny, are you okay? Is someone holding you at gunpoint?”

“Jesus, finally, there you are,” Danny says with relief. “What took you so long, I sent you a text.”

Steve draws in a long breath and holds it in as he tries to decipher what Danny _meant_. He finally exhales, his brows knit together and maybe Danny’s not being held hostage, but there’s definitely something wrong. “Danny, I want you to take very deep breaths and tell me if you hit your head on anything.”

There’s a long pause over the phone.

“Danno?”

“Oh, I’m still here, Steven, I’m just wondering what the hell you’re talking about.”

“I’m…you,” Steve says, sputtering. He takes another deep breath to try and calm his mind before he can get into another nonsensical argument with Danny about who knows what. “Danny, what the hell?”

“I was asking you where you were! How is that hard to grasp, huh? Why are you asking if I hit my head, what part of any of this makes you think that I am _concussed_?” Steve can’t see Danny, but he knows the other man so well that he can _hear_ the hand gestures that accompany his demands. Steve looks at the piece of paper in front of him and tries to establish whether he’s the question marks, the stallion, or whether there’s some hidden meaning in all of this. “You know what?” Danny sighs when Steve still hasn’t replied. “Never mind.”

He hangs up and Steve is more confused than when this whole mess began.

**

It takes one more message, but that’s the one that makes everything click into place.

NEW MESSAGE FROM DANNO:  
 _FYI, if you’re around tonight, we should try to make the bedsprings dance._

And then Steve gets it. It’s like the sun coming up from behind the clouds. It’s like every epiphany has banded together to sing in his ear and he instantly understands why Danny’s been so pissed off and so short of temper lately. Steve pockets the phone, not even bothering to reply to Danny.

Danny’s at Steve’s house because he’d taken the personal day while Steve came in to do the last of the paperwork (on Danny’s threat that if he didn’t, Steve wouldn’t be laid for the foreseeable future and Steve knows how to protect his best interests). Steve practically dives over the desk for the Camaro keys, breaking at least three traffic laws to get back home.

“Danny!” Steve shouts, coming into the foyer and stripping off his Henley, dropping the keys on the front table as he charges upstairs. He comes to a stop in the doorframe to take in the sight of Danny – in Steve’s Five-O football jersey and a pair of jeans, reading a copy of _Wuthering Heights_ , of all things, splayed diagonally on the bed. “You were trying to sext me?” Steve asks with disbelief.

“Um,” Danny says, brows furrowed together. “Duh?”

Steve lets out a heavy exhalation and kneels on the bed to pry the book out of Danny’s hands, throwing it over his shoulder. Danny lets out a sound of protest when the book audibly hits the ground, but Steve’s busy pushing his palm flat against Danny’s chest and pinning him to the bed. Any additional whimpers of complaint are silenced by Steve’s lips.

“Don’t,” Steve says lowly, mouth more occupied with sucking on Danny’s lower lip, relinquishing it only to say his next crucially important words, “ever sext me again. Not ever again in your life. Please,” he begs.

“What, I’m not sexy?” Danny replies in protest.

“Danny, you are sexy,” Steve says, head bent to press his nose against Danny’s neck, brushing upwards and pressing a slow kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Your texts? They make me want to die. And I’ve been tortured.”

Steve grips at one of Danny’s shoulders to give himself leverage to align their bodies, sliding his knees into a straddle around Danny’s hips.

“Hey,” Danny says, his voice throaty. It’s one of the clear indications that he’s every bit as turned on as Steve is right now. “Make you a deal. How about I make you forget your name with my mouth on your dick and you can teach me how to sext you better. Sound good, Smooth Dog?”

It does.

And fifteen minutes later when Steve can remember his name, age, and address again, he begins Danny’s education with a very _thorough_ hands-on lesson.


End file.
